


Tom Cruisin'

by Lxie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cleaning, Come on, Dancing, I Love Elvis, M/M, OLD time rock n' roll, Tom Cruise - Freeform, dancing in underwear, don't make me feel old, if anyone remembers that movie, lance is banned from a planet, risky business, rock n' roll, this seems so random, watch those finger guns man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxie/pseuds/Lxie
Summary: Lance: *dancing in his undergarments*Pidge: I wouldn’t have taught you to hook up your phone if this was what I had to come back to!Lance: *screams like a girl*





	Tom Cruisin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BleuSarcelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleuSarcelle/gifts).



> ~(‾⌣‾~) (~‾⌣‾)~ ~(‾⌣‾~)
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY REA!!
> 
> Songs: [Old Time Rock N' Roll](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJNgEZyEeh8) [Jailhouse Rock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJNgEZyEeh8) [Burning Love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ide7Y9LK6b4)

Contrary to popular belief, Lance could survive on being by himself. In fact, he, on occasion, _liked_ being alone sometimes.

As long as he had something to do.

The space laundry’s done, the cryo-pods were washed, the training rooms were mopped, couches cleaned, pillows fluffed, windows shined, kitchen sanitized; pretty much everything was rubbed, buffed, or squeaked in some manner.

Now… he had nothing to do.

He doesn’t particularly feel like brushing up on Altean or reading or whatever. Everything that needed to be done is done. Hell, he even cleaned the Teludave lenses so they gleamed. But now he’s booooreddd.

He didn’t know why he was even left behind on this mission, it’s not like he did anything _bad_ like blow up the castle. It was just an honest mistake! Seriously, how was he to know that fingerguns were considered a lewd gesture?

So here he is, alone, friendless, abandoned, a nomad, isolated in this cruel harsh universe. Not even Coran to keep him company. While his team was off on a diplomatic mission where he was banned for doing fingerguns towards the princess _and_ the crown prince. His pick-up line didn’t help matters either.

 _Sigh_.

He paced in the common room, recently waxed, seeing his reflection stare back at him. His Mamá would be proud. His socks slip and slide a bit on the floor. _Hmmm…_

He slid to one side of the room, careful not to fall. He turned back to the room, wide and expansive with the only obstacle being the half-circle couch. His cleaning supplies off in the corner, out of the way. He scooted a bit to the left to give him plenty of room.

Stripping off his jacket he threw it over onto the couch, his aim perfect. Pushing off of the wall he took the floor running before sliding the rest of the way, striking a stupid pose because he can.

His hands brace him when he hits the other side of the room. Giggling he turns back around and does it again. And again. And again. He laughs as he slips up in the middle of the room and end up sliding the rest of the way on his back. He lay there for a few moments, bored again, one can only do this so many times before it got repetitive. The scent of fake alien-lemon, almost the same clean smell back at home but a little more of a sickly sweet lemonade scent, wafting around him from his washing.

He rolled his head to the side, seeing the couch. Yup, he cleaned that too. He rolled his eyes to the entertainment system, which he dusted and wiped fingerprints off of. At the bottom of the screen were a bunch of cords and wires that Pidge never put away. He saw his cell, a memento from Earth that he never had the heart to get rid of, sitting idly by on the couch. His lips twitched.

He checked the time. He had plenty.

Let’s rock n’ roll.

 

* * *

 

 

With the first beats of music reverberated in the room Lance slid in on his socked feet. He kicked his leg out as the lyrics started, loud and rattled his bones. When Pidge explained to him how he could hook his phone up to the announcement system she probably didn’t think that he would be doing _this_.

 _”Just take those old records off the shelf!”_ He sang out loud with the lyrics. He spun around, arms out and jacket flaring from his bare torso; head bobbing with the beat. _”I’ll sit and listen to ‘em by myself. Today’s music ain’t got the same soul, I like that old time rock n’ roll.”_

Hips swinging, hands snapping, aviator shades on from when they last went to the Space Mall, he moonwalked his way in his boxers to the back of the room. He surged forward and slid his way to where he left the cleaning supplies. Grabbing the Altean mop he used he started dancing with it, swinging it to the middle of the room before using it as a guitar as he rocked out the instrumentals on his knees. He floor hurt his knees a bit but he ignored it for the rock. He would ignore it for The Rock. That’s not what he meant, get your head out of the gutter. Perverts.

 _”Won’t go to hear them play a tango. I’d rather hear some blues or funky old soul. There’s only sure way to get me to go. Start playing old time rock n’ roll.”_ He got up on his feet, slipping slightly from the lack of grit but moving it into a twirl. Hand moving in muscle memory he played like he was back home.

He really hammed it out on his mop-guitar, hopping around on one foot despite slipping and falling several times before deciding to just play on the floor. Arching his back up into a half-bridge like he was on stage. If he ever were on stage he would hopefully not be just in his underwear and jacket.

 _”Still like that old time rock n’ roll. That kind of music just soothes the soul. I reminisce about the days of old. With that old time rock n’ roll!”_ With the change of beat on the second time through of the reprise he swiveled himself on his knees and banged his head, feathery hair flying, with the time of the cowbell. He brought it home with the last guitar solo before ending the show on his knees, head down, and hand with the fake pick in the air, letting the last note fade in the air.

In the silence he started to laugh. Letting the rod of the broom drop to the floor he wrapped his arms around his stomach, cheeks aching from smiling. He never could have done it at home, too many siblings, and he never thought that he would be able to do it in space. What was it about dancing in your underwear that was just so freeing?

No one around, just him, himself, and his tighty-whities.

With the next song started he grinned and pointed in the general area where his phone was plugged in. “Yeah, my man!” He leaped up and started some old school moves his Papá and Mamá taught him with his sisters. _”The warden threw a party in the county jail. The prison band was there and they began to wail. The ba—“_

“I wouldn’t have taught you to hook up your phone if this was what I had to come back to!”

No he did _not_ scream like a girl.

He froze.

Six sets of eyes were very obviously staring at the scene in front of them. One fifth, or seventh, part of the Defenders of the Universe dancing bare chested save for his jacket, in his undies, aviators, and whose previous dance partner resting at his feet. Stared back. The rest of his team in their formal diplomacy outfits, all decked out in fancy fabric and embroidery, hairs combed back and twisted. To say the least _underdressed_ was an understatement.

He turned red from his ears and _allll_ the ways down his collarbones as they could plainly see. As he suddenly realized they could plainly see. At least he was wearing boxers. Keith couldn’t even look at him, small favors, everyone else stared with wide eyes.

As casually as he could he zipped up his jacket, covering his bare skin. He cleared his throat, barely heard over The King. “So, uh, I cleaned the floors.”

Pidge piped up, over the King of Rock. “So you decided to strip?”

He licked his lips. “Uh, yeah?”

Hunk threw his hands up. “Dude! You had a dance party and didn’t invite me?!” Right there in the middle of his teammates, leader, a princess, and a Pidge, the big ol’ Hunk of Burnin’ Love started stripping off his fancy garments until he was down to his own boxers and running over to jam out to Jailhouse Rock. He scooped the mop from the floor and started dancing with it.

The princess clapped her hands. “Oh! A dance! That sounds lovely!” She pulled out a dozen or so hair pins and let the sliver locks fall in waves down her back. “Do Earthlings normally host dance parties in their undergarments?”

Coran, somehow, without anyone noticing, was fully naked except for his briefs, standing proudly. Back straight, hands on hips, practically shining. “I’m not sure, Princess. But I’m willing to embrace it!” He pirouetted his way to the group, mimicking the odd spazzing that was Hunk’s dancing.

“Shiro! Keith! Pidge! Join us!” called Allura.

Shiro smiled and turned to leave, before he left he directed over his shoulder, “Don’t get too wild. I’m changing and coming back. I am not dancing in my underwear.”

Pidge pushed her glasses up and sighed. “I suppose I can join. But only if you people put on some pants! Good god, what are we? Heathens?!” She walked over to where Hunks discarded fancy pants were and threw them in his face. She leveled a look at Lance, lips twitching. “I don’t know where your pants are, I don’t want to know, as long as you put them on.” She shimmied her way to the other dancers, who now had pants, and started to do the robot.

Lance’s cheeks hurt again. Somehow he threw a dance party in his underwear. He turned to find his jeans, per Pidge’s order, to find Keith holding them out to him. Chuckling he put them on one leg at a time. When he buttoned them up the song changed to another song from the King. He grabbed Keith’s hands and started to shimmy around, legs and hips jiggling in an old dance move, fingers snapping. _”—higher, higher. It’s burning through my soul! Boy, boy, boy, you gonna set me on fire. My brain is flaming I don’t know which way to go.”_

His singing stuttered to a stop when he felt Keith’s hands on the zipper of his jacket. “Pidge said to put your pants on, not your jacket.” He smirked at him, red in the face and one side slightly wobbly. Despite his sort-of-more-than-a-friend’s nervous attempt at flirting Lance still felt his face heat up. _Ooh, ooh, ooh, I feel my temperature rising. Help me. I’m flaming I must be a hundred and nine._

Despite his burning face and the cool air that was quickly warming between their bodies Lance reeled Keith in and threaded their hands together, pulling him along in a goofy dance with no pattern or rhythm. Flailing limbs, burning faces, and sore cheeks.

When Shiro returned everyone was in a breathless state of laughter and smiles. A few complaints of not waiting from him quieted when Allura pulled him into a dance, pulling and tugging his arms and body with hers.

Everyone was either spinning goofily in circles, or moving with their partner like they were landing a planes, or in one case, slowly getting closer and closer together until the nearest sunlight of the planet filtered through the windows.

 

_You’re kisses lift me higher, like the sweet song of a choir. You light my morning sky with burning love._

_Burning love._


End file.
